Who's The Pastor Here?

People of a certain age (i.e. old) will remember a game show that started with 3 people each claiming to be the same person:

"I'm Orville Redenbacher."

"I'm Orville Redenbacher."

"No, I'm Orville Redenbacher."

Panelists asked questions trying to figure out who was the real popcorn maker, or whatever. And often the panel was stumped because a pretender out Orvilled the real Orville.

Occasionally there is confusion over who in our church is "the pastor." But it's not about pretenders. It's about the reality of an increasing number of people displaying pastoral gifts and vision.

Last night there was some confusion about which group had booked the lower level of our church building. When I went down to set up for a meeting, I found two strangers already there setting up for their meeting.

Me: Oh hi. Do you guys have a meeting down here?

Woman: Yes, we do.

Me: Hmm. There must be a mix-up then.

Woman: Well, I don't know who you think you are, but we pay rent to use this space.

Me: Not a problem. We can move upstairs (I check the basement door to be sure it's closed.)

Woman: The pastor told us not to touch that door because alarms will go off.

Me: It's okay. You can use that door.

I kind of love that somebody somewhere told her not to use that door (alarms!) and she assumed he/she was "the pastor."

There have been times when I was in the church office and a scary person came in looking for "the pastor" and I said, "He's not here right now.

I like being the pastor. I use that word more than "minister" because who isn't a minister if you are a part of Christ's body? On paper Fairlington Presbyterian Church has one "pastor" and yet there are many others who live out that role, at least occasionally. When my elder friend M. died a few years ago, I called her my pastor at the memorial service because she was.

So, now there's a discussion on Emergent Village about their National Coordinator. Who is their "pastor"? Who is their "go to person"? Troy Bronsink wrote about it here.

Tony Jones has been the EVNC for the past three years, but he'll serve only PT in this position through the end of the year and then there will be no National Coordinator at all. Instead there will be an increased emphasis in decentralized communities gathering for conversations and events in the ongoing hope of being the church in new ways. A couple of people will ensure organizational upkeep but there will be no Face of the Organization.

Or . . . all of us will be the Face of the Organization.

In my denomination, I'll hear church members say things like, "The Presbytery did this" or "The Presbytery should stop doing that" but the truth is that we are all "The Presbytery. Or at least this is the truth on paper.

Last night at our discernment discussion, I noticed a lot of pastors in the room.

It's true that we need to have someone direct the course and lead the equipping of the saints and so forth. But it can't be up to a single leader in any spiritual organization to be responsible for everyone's spiritual life. In other words, if a church is led by a single Pastor who serves as preacher, teacher, missionary, visionary, caregiver, and counselor while everyone else sits back and waits for that Pastor to provide spiritual opportunities, be available for emergency needs, and be The Educated Minister/Only Go-To Person, then we'll have one burned out pastor and one dead congregation.

As Troy wrote, Tony was among the catalysts to point the way and get things started. But now that they have, he is stepping back and is letting the cohorts and communities across the nation take off and go.

Many of our Mainline congregations continue to prefer the sit back and let the Pastor be the Pastor. I don't mean to play semantic games here. But the truth is that we have many who are called to show us how to be the church for a new generation. We pastors need to let go a little and our congregations need to step up.

(Lurkers: please comment! I even appreciate critical comments.)

Painting is What is Truth? Christ and Pilate, 1890 by Nikolai Nikolaevich Ge.

Something a Little Lighter. Or Not.

Maybe I'm getting punchy as the week goes on. Twittering during Presbytery Tuesday night definitely enhanced life's absurdity quotient.

These are serious days. Every day I hear of someone else who's been laid off or expects to be laid off soon. There's a special place in my heart for GM despite decades of being vision-challenged.

Some are saying it's a terrible time to run a church stewardship campaign, but I think it's a very good time. More than ever people need what only God can give through the church. And more than ever, we have a responsibility as followers of Jesus.

Every year we hear about "simplifying the holidays." This will be the year it actually happens perhaps. We will have some holy choices to make, bigger than choices like PS3 versus Wii versus XBox. This year, many will choose between buying groceries and paying the rent. Many will lose their homes and endure the humiliation of not being able to give their children gifts. The fortunate ones will be choosing between buying gifts that nobody really needs and sharing our resources to bring a glimpse of salvation to our neighbors.

We are on the cusp of what is supposed to be a holy season. I, for one, believe that Christmas trumps Easter in that we can't have resurrection without incarnation.

But we seem to cling to ridiculous and sentimental "traditions" maybe because they keep us distracted from the awesome ramifications of worshipping a God who gave so lavishly - to the point of giving everything. Everyday there are ever more outrageous purchasing options.

So how do we negotiate the holidays without losing perspective? Some have no choice. The rest of us can stop and listen for God's voice (she wrote at 2 am.) Clearly I need to slow down, too.

Painting is Sunday Morning Relaxation by Micius Stephane in the General Motors Center for African American Art, Detroit Institute of Arts.

Traditional Worship, Emerging Community

My kids - who are on the cusp of independent adulthood - all prefer traditional worship. I took TBC to The Theatre Church a couple years ago and it wasn't her thing. Seemed as fake to her as traditional worship feels to those who only experience God and community in alt worship settings.

But here's the thing: emerging community is what postmodern generations basically want.

Relationships that are not fake or based on duty ("Hi, I'm your Stephen Minister. Just call me if you have a problem.") Relationships that don't require perkiness 24/7. Relationships in which you can not only be yourself; you can express spiritual doubts if that's where you are.

Actually this is what I want too. It's not merely about age. There are twenty-somethings that prefer traditional worship and others who are moved by ancient practices or U2charist or whatever. But almost all of them really want real connections to other real people.

Rote prayers don't do it.

Lifeless worship leadership doesn't do it.

Packaged liturgies don't do it.

Most of all, we just want a community/spiritual connections to be real.

Painting is Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah by Chagall (1960)

The Church and General Motors

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." Matthew 19:24

I'm starting to think it's easier for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God than it is to transform a 1950s church into a 21st Century church.

As our congregation tiptoes into this thing we are calling a season of discernment, the anxiety is manifesting itself in the usual ways: rumors, misinformation, a little hand wringing, a little crazy-making. Among the rumors I increasingly hear:

• The evening worship crowd is trying to take over our church.
• They want to tear down our traditional sanctuary.
• They don't financially support the church.
• They want to change everything.

Most common are rumors about the emerging generation - those new people who have found a connection to God and each other through our congregation.

It seems to be about age, but it's not necessarily about age. For example: I know a twenty-something Presbyterian who is firmly against anything outside the box, especially when it seems to bypass standard Presbyterian operating procedures. She doesn't support non-PCUSA mission projects. She questions in-house publishing and new resources when we could be ordering from denominational offices. I learned through conversations with her that she has friends in the denominational offices and basically, she doesn't want them to lose their jobs.

For her it's about maintaining traditional job security even at the expense of dynamic growth and forward-thinking vision. GM tried this and look where they are.

For the most part, twenty-somethings are not interested in institutional maintenance. They are passionate, generous, visionary, and technologically savvy. I'm reminded again of Bob Carson's remarks at his daughter Eve's memorial service about this generation:

. . . she, along with these blessed friends and fellow students, are the ones who can solve the most pressing problems of this time. Please don’t attribute this to hyperbole or relate it to a father’s sadness. I see a stunningly beautiful convergence of talent and caring in this, our children’s, generation.

I believe that these kids, along with their peers around the globe, can reach reasoned solutions for mitigating violence and tackling many of the inequities of poverty, prejudice, inadequate health care and under-education.

They’re more productive because they collaborate and communicate like no generation before them.

I thought of these words when I read the Peter Hart/David Gergen interview with Jann Wenner in this month's Rolling Stone. The article is about how Obama won the election, and if you voted for McCain ,I hope you will forget the Obama part and recognize how the general comments about the recent election also inform us about the future of the church. Gergen wrote:

The emergence of this millennial generation as a force in American politics is going to be one of the biggest stories in the country over the next 20 years or so. They are even bigger than the baby-boom population and they are much more progressive and diverse. Forty percent of millennials are minorities.

Hart adds:

You'd better be able to talk to Latino voters and Asian voters and African-Americans. That's where the population is going to grow.

Imagine for a moment taking the words "politics" and "voters" out of these remarks and inserting the words "religious life" and "believers" like this:

The emergence of this millennial generation as a force in American religious life is going to be one of the biggest stories in the country over the next 20 years or so. They are even bigger than the baby-boom population and they are much more progressive and diverse.

You'd better be able to talk to Latino believers and Asian believers and African-Americans.

Are we ready to be the church with this generation? Are we excited about being a church that would not only welcome Latino, Asian, African-American believers but encourage them to lead?

Or will we be the General Motors of the faith world? As much as I loved my grandfather's Oldsmobile - and boy was it ever comfortable - the brand died in 2004. Wouldn't you really rather drive a Buick? Not particularly. See the USA in your Chevrolet? Not anymore. General Motors - poorly managed and blind to the shifts in culture for decades - is on the verge of bankruptcy.

We are on the cusp of a new and hopeful era marked by a new generation and emerging technologies. It is a great time to be the church, but we need to make some critical shifts.

And that's why it's time for some serious discernment.

Photograph of the parking lot of a Lutheran church in Ohio, circa 1950.

Reunion Recap

You know how at the end of the movie "A League of Their Own" there is a current day reunion scene showing the women who had played baseball together 50 years before? That's what I thought about as I spent the past couple of days with friends I hadn't seen in 30.

It was one of those rare moments in life when you get to relive some wonderful stories. And it was really exhausting.

There were at least four variations of The Reunion Conversation:

- The version where I pulled someone aside and told her how much she meant to me and how she changed my life and -- from the expression on her face -- it was clear she barely remembered me and had absolutely no memory of Our Special Moment.

- The version where someone pulled me aside and reminded me about that amazing time we (fill in memorable moment here) and I had no idea what she was talking about.

- The version where a woman and I say "hello" as if we remember each other and then surreptitiously try to read each other's name tags which is impossible without donning reading glasses and/or staring about 3 inches from each other's chest. And even then, it wasn't clear that we had ever laid eyes on each other before in our entire lives.

- The version where we definitely recognize each other and just stare at each other's face as if we are looking at a ghost. And the hair might be different or the waistline might be a tad thicker, but She's The Same Person You Once Knew.

Of course I was asked to pray because I was "the only minister." It wasn't the time to get into a theological debate about that. But several women -- some of my closest friends from those days -- were fairly clear that women ministers were not something they were used to/approved of/had ever heard was possible. Lots of people said they'd be coming "to hear me preach" next time they visited Our Nation's Capital (I doubt it but you never know.) And could I get them inauguration tickets (probably not.)

What I'd hoped for was Real Life and for the most part that's what we shared. We heard about namesakes born and parents deceased, about sick husbands and personal bouts with cancer, about kids in college and one son who lost both legs in Iraq. We heard about infertility and disabled children and smart children and even grandchildren. (Yikes.) We heard a little about unrequited love and emotional breakdowns and divorce and layoffs.

And at the end of the last evening -- after dinner together and a little more wine -- someone shared a terrible thing that happened to her in college. And someone else turned to me and whispered, "You must hear stories like this all the time." And it's true. It's church. Or at least it's the way church could be.

Photograph by Jeneane Lesko of members of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League founded in 1943 upon which A League of Our Own is based. This was from their 64th reunion.

Girls' Girls

My mother was not one of those women who offered unsolicited advice. In fact, we craved her advice and never got it. She was all about encouraging us to make our own decisions/mistakes.

The only time we can remember my mother giving advice was to my brothers and it was comparable to an E.F. Hutton moment (for all you who will remember those E.F. Hutton commercials. And sorry for the rough video.) My mother said something to my brothers like this: "What you need to remember, boys" (sudden silence at the dinner table, shocked that Mom was actually going to share some Great Insight) "is that you never want to date a girl with no girlfriends."

Ingenious.

I've noticed through the years that some of the most difficult stumbling blocks for women are other women. I watch Sarah Palin and wonder if she is a good girlfriend. She doesn't look like it. I write this not caring if Sarah Palin is a Republican, Democrat, or Whig.

I've noticed that no women (like the former lieutenant governor or the Chief Clerk to Alaska's Constitutional Convention) have much - if anything - to say about the current governor of the great state of Alaska. As I watch Sarah Palin, she seems to have a lot in common with a woman who served as a seminary intern in our church.

I agreed to work with T. because she approached me after worship one Summer Sunday as a visitor and said she was desperate to find an internship. Her references said she was Exceptional and because she was a sister in Christ and a member of my (somewhat oppressed) gender, I wanted to help her. It proved to be a bit of a nightmare.

T. would have stabbed me in the back without blinking. Actually, that's what she did.

When I offered her some serious responsibilities, she grabbed more when I wasn't looking. When I set up the most sensitive and confidential "Support Team" possible, she erroneously told them that "it was a good thing she was on staff since I was enduring terrible marriage problems." (She invented this.)

When someone privately brought her a potted plant to give her on her last Sunday, she said to them, "Let's save this for a presentation in front of the whole congregation." T. was about T.

Since then, she has never been called to a position in our Presbytery, probably because she has been less than a colleague in ministry in every temporary position she has served. In fact, she finagled her ordination - being "called" to a one month interim position in her home church - because it was the only way her home pastor could get rid of her. (Longish story.)

So . . . I write this as a woman on her way to a sorority reunion knowing that women can sometimes be the worst enemies of other women. I started feeling those "women versus women" feelings when we had to complete a questionaire which asked the following questions:

- Do you work?

- How long have you worked?

- What is your maiden name?

My snarky-ish responses were:

- Who doesn't?

- All my life.

- I kept my name when I married.

I can feel the woman-backlash stirring.

I have the utmost respect for my sisters who make other choices. But I also have the sense that they not only disrespect mine; they aren't even aware that my kind of choices are options. (e.g. It's possible that we have always worked and we started our professional lives before marriage which made it more difficult to change our names/identities when we got married.)

My own daughter may or may not change her name one day. But she will "work" because that's what all of us do. Whether we are paid or not, we have a calling and a purpose. We work.

Anyway . . .

here I sit in the middle of the night hoping that I'll find a cadre of women at the reunion who are thrilled with the variety and assortment of lives lived rather than sensitive about the differences. I don't want to meet somebody like T. at the cocktail party on Friday night.

Painting by France Robet Delauney at the Pompidou Museum, Paris, 2004.

Confessions of a Sorority Girl

My denomination ordains elders and deacons for life. "Once an elder, always an elder."

The same is apparently/sadly/wonderfully true for sorority sisters. These days I feel more like confessing it than celebrating it. I, who appreciate diversity and mismatched outfits, have not been someone who transformed my initiation pin into a dinner ring, although I do vaguely remember the secret handshake.

It's time to come clean:

My name is Jan and I was in a sorority in college.

Hi Jan.

I disclose this semi-mortifying truth because this time tomorrow I will be in a car on my way to a college sorority reunion in the prettiest college town in the nation. There will be cocktails. There will be a house tour. There will be stories told and re-told. TBC is attending with me which is less about brainwashing her to adopt her mother's collegiate affiliations than it is to help me read the room and survive it all.

Did I mention that I'm a Myers-Briggs introvert?

I will share what can be shared as the weekend progresses. Highlights anticipated: feeling great about what each person's done with her one precious life.